Brotherhood Babysitting Service
by Sue Penkivech
Summary: When Pietro and Todd go into business, will Bayville survive?


Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men. Or the Brotherhood. The kids are ALLLL mine!

Thanks go out to Beaubier for beta-ing!

**Brotherhood Babysitting Service**

"Waaaaanda…" Pietro whined as he zipped around the kitchen frantically opening cabinets. Where was she this time? Didn't she _realize_ he was starving? It had been…oh. About ten seconds since he started calling her.

Sometimes, living at accelerated speeds really sucked ass.

"What is it?" his sister _finally_ answered, walking into the room and crossing her arms over her chest, a towel wrapped around her still dripping body. "I was in the _shower_, Pietro. This had better be good."

"I'm hungry," he whined pitifully, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"You got me out of the shower to tell me you're hungry?"

"Well, yeah," he admitted, shrugging. "We're out of food again. Can't you…"

"Why don't you just go knock off the damn grocery store then?" she asked, turning to leave, but he zipped over in front of her before she could exit the room.

"Because it's your turn," he wheedled. "C'mon, sis, I'm STARVING. And we're BROKE. Can't you just go hit the casino? Last time you did that we…"

With another roll of her eyes, Wanda pushed past him and toward the stairs. "Last time I did that they kicked me out, remember? You want money? Go get a job."

Pietro stared after her as she headed up the stairs. A job? HE should go get a JOB?

Huh. Maybe not such a bad idea. It could be amusing for a couple of days, anyway. Just long enough to prove to her that he COULD, of course. Besides, it was awfully boring around the house.

Car wash attendant. Too menial.

Waiter. Too service-ish. No way he was waiting on a bunch of flatscans.

Help desk technician. Ewwww, no. Then he'd have to be NICE to the flatscans, too. Or that was what the ad said, anyway - in his experience, they never actually WERE.

"Whatcha doin', yo?" a voice interjected, and Pietro tossed the paper down onto the couch and looked up at Todd.

"Looking for a job," he admitted, then crossed his arms over his chest and glared as the younger boy started laughing.

"You have GOT to be kidding? Who'd hire you, anyway?" his slimy housemate asked between giggles. Man…there was just something…wrong with the whole idea of Todd giggling. Especially at him. No one laughed at Pietro Maximoff.

Well, not unless he wanted them to, of course. But this time, he didn't.

"Man," he protested, wadding up the paper at high speed and whipping it at the still chuckling amphibian. "Wanda told me to go get a job, doesn't figure I can do it though, so I'm gonna show her." Suddenly, a thought popped into his head, and he smirked over at the other boy, who now had that stupid lovestruck expression he got on his face every time someone mentioned Wanda.

"Y'know," he said casually, "I bet she'd be real impressed if YOU got one too. Show her what a real man you are, all that crap."

"Ya think?" Todd looked at him, astonished. "Like, just how impressed?"

"Oh, real impressed," Pietro said suavely. "Hey, you know what?" he added, snapping his fingers as if just having a sudden inspiration, despite the fact that it had been at least twenty seconds since he actually had. "We could go into business. That'd show her, right? And I mean, I'd be willing to do that - just as a favor to you, of course," he added, making a "the things I do for my friends" sort of gesture.

"Oh hey, we could be like, exterminators or somethin'," Toad said, getting into the spirit of things, then whipped out his tongue and sucked up a fly that had been buzzing around his head.

Ewww. Gross.

"No, no, think bigger, man," Pietro said grandly, suppressing his urge to shudder at the sight. "We could go the whole nine yards, do something BIG -"

"Hold it," Lance interjected as he walked into the room, wiping his grease-covered hands off on a towel. "Did I hear this right? You guys had better not be planning to get into the hero-business again - last time we ended up LOSING money on that one, remember."

Pietro screwed up his face, remembering. That'd had such huge potential, too. Too bad someone had gone and mucked it up.

Oh yeah, that'd been him. Whatever.

"Yo, we can do it," Todd protested, and Pietro chuckled to himself. Oh yeah, little frog'd do ANYTHING to get in Wanda's good graces. Like that'd ever happen. "All we need is some cash to get started…"

"Don't even go there," Lance warned, and a slight tremor shook the house. "I'm working, yeah, but not so I can fund more of your asinine schemes. Besides, I need the money - I've got a date with Kitty tonight when she's done babysitting for the Seftons - gotta go pick her up.

Pietro rolled his eyes. Who the hell would let that stupid valley girl watch their kids, anyway? Didn't these people have any standards…

Wait. No, apparently they didn't. And babysitting didn't require any startup money…

"That's it!" he announced as he sped to the door, grabbing Todd by the collar on his way and ignoring the resultant choking noises. "Gotta go Lance catch ya later have fun on your date. And for god sakes don't bring her back here," he added as an afterthought.

"Yo man, where's the fire?" Todd asked once he caught his breath, and Pietro grinned.

Oh yeah, DEFINITELY one of his better ideas.

"Look, people PAY that stupid little X-Geek to watch their kids, right? We could totally do that."

"I dunno - I don't think it pays that well," Todd protested, shrugging his shoulders. "And it's like, not all that impressive a job, you know? If I'm gonna show Wanda…"

"Oh, girls LOVE guys who are good with kids," Pietro interjected quickly. Not that he really figured that applied to Wanda, who was…well, kind of atypical as girls went. But whatever. If Todd hadn't figure that out by now, he sure as hell wasn't going to tell him.

"Still, man, I don't think we'd make all that much at it…you really think she'd go for that?" the other boy changed tracks mid-sentence, looking hopeful, and Pietro nodded.

"Oh yeah, definitely. Probably give her all kinds of ideas about wanting her own, even." Well, that was a stretch, god, he could just picture Wanda with kids. Scary.

"And look - yeah, we wouldn't make much money at it if we only did a couple of kids," he conceded grudgingly, then grinned. "But hey, who says we do a couple? We've got the house, and I can be like…everywhere at once, right? We just need volume. C'mon, we need to advertise, see if we can drum up some business. Just…keep it quiet with Lance, for now," he advised. No doubt Alvers would want to complain about them using the house for this, but there wouldn't be a whole lot he could do once it was already happening. "He'll just want a piece of it for himself," he said, and grinned as Todd nodded vehemently.

"So, how do we start this off?" the younger boy asked.

Pietro considered for a split second. "K…you go start cleaning up the house, I'll get stuff for signs. Can't be that hard - you should see some of the morons I date who do it."

Three days later, as he sat with his feet kicked up on the coffee table, staring at the phone, Pietro was prepared to admit that perhaps it was a bit harder than he'd thought.

It had to be the house, he told himself. Who WOULDN'T want Pietro Maximoff watching their kids, right? But the house…yeah, he wouldn't want to drop his kids off here, either.

Shit, he didn't even want to live here. But whatever.

"Tooooddd," he called out, then jumped as his housemate hopped into view faster than he'd expected. And burst out laughing as he took in the frilly apron the younger boy was wearing over his clothes.

"What?" Todd asked sharply, a hurt expression appearing on his face. "Look man, I'm cleaning here. You wanta help? Not like staring at the phone's gonna get us any business, yo."

Pietro finally managed to stop laughing and shook his head. "No way, you're the clean-up crew, remember? But…" he looked around the living room, wrinkling his nose disdainfully. "You're gonna have to do better than this, the place still looks like a pit."

"Yeah well, ain't like anyone's callin' us anyhow," Todd countered, throwing a disgusted look at the phone. "I dunno, maybe this isn't such a good idea…"

"Of course it's a good idea. It was MY idea," Pietro said, immediately dismissing any thoughts that perhaps it hadn't been one of his best. "We just need a better marketing campaign."

"Maybe you should call some of your girlfriends, see how they do it?" Todd suggested, and Pietro sniffed at him. Then paused. He wasn't about to ask them how they did it, because obviously he could do it better anyway, but being the Most Popular Guy in Bayville ™ could pay off…

"Keep cleaning I'll be right back I just need to talk to a few people and make some changes to the signs," he rattled off, the front door slamming behind him moments later.

"Is this the Brotherhood Babysitting Service?" a woman asked hesitantly, glancing around inside through the door, and Pietro smiled charmingly, gesturing for her to come in.

"Of course it is. Need a sitter?" he asked with a grin as she nervously entered, clinging to the hand of a three or four year old little kid with one hand and holding a carrier with an infant in the other.

"Well, yes…Angela, my usual sitter, cancelled at the last minute, and your signs do say emergency drop-offs welcome…are you sure this is the right place?" she asked again, staring at the group of five or six kids who'd tackled Todd to the floor and were now climbing all over him.

"Oh yeah, quality childcare, right here," Pietro said, gesturing with his head and urging Todd to get up off the floor.

"Well…" he braced himself to listen to yet another diatribe on the unfairness that was the life of the soccer mom. Not like he hadn't heard the same thing with only a few variations several times in the last few hours. But he had to admit, spacing out on what she was saying completely, this HAD been one of his more inspired ideas. Call up some girls he knew, convince them to cancel out on their babysitting jobs by promising them, well, HIM, and then sit back and collect as every sitter in town had dates for the night.

Well, except Pryde. Even he had his standards. But unlike him, she could only handle a couple at a time.

Realizing the mother had stopped speaking, he nodded as if he'd been paying attention all along and took the piece of paper she was proffering. "Yeah, no problem, we'll take good care of 'em," he assured her, shooing the older child off to play with the others and accepting the carrier. And wrinkling his nose at the smell it was emitting.

Ewww. Really gross.

The mother giggled nervously and nodded, apparently noting his reaction. "Yes, I'm afraid Joshua just filled his diaper." Glancing down at her watch, she shuddered visibly. "I'm going to be late, and I can't be. Take good care of them," she entreated, glancing over at the older child - Pietro thought it was a girl, but wasn't entirely sure - who had joined the throng using Todd as a jungle gym.

"Definitely," he assured her, escorting her to the door and all but pushing her out. "Have a good time don't worry about a thing we'll take good care of them," he said rapid-fire, then closed the door.

And looked down at the smiling source of the incredible stench.

"Toooooodd!" he called out.

"Uh uh, got my hands full," his co-owner insisted, and Pietro rolled his eyes. What.ever. He could do this, no problem.

Setting the carrier down on the table, he rummaged at high speed through the diaper bag until he found a diaper and a package of wipes, then turned to consider the job. He'd have to take the baby OUT of the carrier to do this, he supposed, setting the supplies on the table next to it and unbuckling the child, lifting him up to his shoulder.

Where he heard a burp and felt a warm, wet substance soak through his shirt.

Swallowing hard, he lay the baby down on the table, where it promptly turned over and started crawling toward the edge. "Hey, stop that!" he protested as he all but ripped his now-disgusting shirt off, zipping over to catch the child just as it got to the edge and started to teeter off. The baby, startled by his tone, began screaming, and he picked it back up and laid it back down. Again.

"Mr. Pietro?" a voice said from the door, and he turned to look at a dark-haired little girl in pink overalls who was wiping at her nose with her hand. "I'm hungry…"

"Yeah, ok," he said, zipping off to the counter and grabbing a box of graham crackers he'd had the forethought to pick up at the store earlier. Thrusting them into her hands, he turned back….just in time to grab the baby, who was about to go over the edge. Again.

Damn, but the little shit moved quick, he thought, turning back to the disgusting task at hand. Maybe it was a mutant, too?

"Mr. Pieeeetro?"

"Whaaaat?" he whined back at the girl as he began pulling off the baby's pants. Ooooh, it stunk even worse now…

"I need some milk with my gayam cackers," she said, and a second voice jumped in.

"Me too, me too!"

Milk. Damn, knew he'd forgotten something. With a glare at the screaming baby, he zipped off to the counter and grabbed two glasses, filled them with water at an annoyingly slow pace, and deposited one in each child's hand, then went and caught the baby, who was trying to crawl off the damn table. Again.

"This isn't milk," the boy complained, and he glanced over to see the child staring into his glass.

"Very good, you've correctly identified it as 'not milk'. Just drink it, okay?" he implored, looking down at the daunting task before him. Man, he really should have thought to get gloves…

"But, I NEED milk," the girl whined. "Choc'ate milk. My mommy always puts choc'ate in my milk, to go with my gayam cackers. And so does Angela, and Carla, and Tracy…"

"TOOOOOOD!" Pietro yelled. Honestly, was he doing this all alone?

The doorbell rang.

Damn.

Tucking the baby under his arm like a football, Pietro whizzed past the whining brats and into the living room, and flung the door open, hoping it wasn't another parent.

"Hey, Pietro, like the new look, you do the stressed out mess thing soooo well," the blonde in the doorway said as she pushed her way past him and plunked a duffel bag down at the foot of the stairs. "Need a place to crash, knew you wouldn't mind, right?"

Tabby. Wonderful, he thought, rolling his eyes. Just what he needed right now…

On second thought…

"Boom Boom, great to see you, no free rides this time, you've gotta help me out here," he implored. "Todd's supposed to, but…" he glanced over at his alleged partner…

Who was stretched out, unconscious, on the floor, while a five year old with a frying pan - he hadn't even known they OWNED a frying pan - stood over him with an annoyed look on his face.

"Mr. Todd won't wake up, Mr. Pietro," the boy accused, and the other children turned to look at him with indignation as well.

"Here," he said, handing the baby to Tabby and rushing over to where Todd was grudgingly opening his eyes.

"Oh man, that hurt, yo," he complained, rubbing at his head. "Pietro, I don't feel so good…"

"Hold it right there," he heard Tabby's voice behind him, and he turned just in time to have the baby pushed back into his hands. "What's my cut on this? No WAY I'm doing it for free."

"Yeah, whatever," Pietro said, lifting the baby up to his shoulder as Todd shakily got to his feet. "You want it, you got it." Given the crowd, they could afford to pay her something, right? "Just…take some of these outside, will you?"

"Can do!" she said, turning to look at the assembled kids. "Five and up, you're with me. C'mon, I'll show you how to blow stuff up, it'll be fun," she added, gesturing toward the back door.

Good, Pietro thought as Todd collapsed back into a chair, rubbing his head. He'd…take care of the diaper, and Todd could keep the rest of them busy, and Tabby could…blow stuff up?

Oh man, not good.

"Tabbbbyyy!" he called out, rushing past the toddlers with the water glasses yet again in an attempt to overtake her. "You can't -"

"BOOOOOOM!"

"…and my gramma does, and daddy when I'm at his house, and Unca Larry…" the toddler continued her list, but he wasn't paying any attention as he zipped out the door, where he saw the children cheering Tabitha, who was taking a bow.

And a really, really big hole in the back lawn.

"Boom Boom, you CAN'T explode stuff around the kids," he whined, and saw four sets of eyes turn to glare at him.

"You're no FUN," the one who'd previously been wielding the frying pan announced, and ran over to kick him in the leg.

"Stop that, you little…" he began, when the infant on his shoulder started screaming again.

Oh yeah. Diaper.

Dodging another kick to the leg, he ran back inside and laid the baby back down on the table.

"Mr. Pietro? My water's all gone," the little girl in the pink complained.

"And the c'ackers are all smooshed," her companion added as he looked down at the entire box of graham crackers, now shattered on the floor and shrugged. "We couldn't get the bag opened up," he justified.

"Oh shi…couldn't you have just waited?" he demanded, and the two simultaneously burst into tears.

"But we waited FOREVER!" the little girl whined, and Pietro rolled his eyes at her. Between her babbling and her whining, she almost HAD to be a Pryde clone. New product of the Xavier Institute, no doubt, just to make his life miserable.

"So? Welcome to my life!" he whined back, turning back to the table...where the damn little rug rat was about to go over the edge yet again. He scooped the baby up and laid it back down, AGAIN, and peeling the tape back on the diaper.

Oh yeah. Gloves. And a face mask. Possibly an oxygen tank. God, he was never, ever, ever doing this again…

"Mr. Pietro!" a new voice demanded as he grabbed a handful of wipes and made quick work of…the clean up project. Yeah, that was the best way to think of it.

"What!" he snapped as he turned to see an older boy who'd somehow managed to escape Tabby's round-up standing in the door.

"Who's the pretty lady who just came in?" the kid asked, just as Pietro heard "Hey sweetums!" followed by a familiar double-thump. Oh yeah, great. Todd hits wall, Todd hits floor.

"That'd be my sister," he admitted grudgingly. Count Todd out of things now, even if he was still conscious. The best he could hope for now was for Wanda to go right back out…

"PIETRO!" Wanda snarled, pushing her way past the boy in the doorway and both toddlers. So much for that idea. Could things GET any worse?

"Hi Wanda!" he smirked, trying to look utterly innocent. Oh no, nothing was wrong. Nothing at all…

"Don't look at me like that," she demanded. "I don't know what you're up to, but it had better be over before I come back. And your brat's going off the table," she observed , then turned to walk back out, leaving him blinking after her. His what?

Oh shit…

By reflex, Pietro dove, catching the baby scant inches before its head crashed into the floor, and pulled it up to his shoulder, shaking. Okay. Not a crisis. Not at all…

He felt something warm trickle down his bare chest, and nearly dropped the ungrateful brat. Intentionally. "SHIT!" he yelled.

"He said a baaad word!" the little Pryde clone observed with a giggle.

Oh yes. Definitely an X-Men plot. Death by annoyance. Tons more effective than anything they'd come up with before.

"Todddd!" he shouted. Hopefully the slimy little shit was still conscious, because he SO needed to go get in the shower. Right. Now.

"Yo man, I'm out of here," his housemate said as he staggered in through the door, rubbing the back of his head. "They don't PAY enough to take this abuse, yo!"

"Oh c'mon like Wanda doesn't do worse to you on a daily basis anyway," Pietro complained, but Todd shook his head, then winced.

"Yeah, but that's like, abuse with loooove, man. This is just plain abuse. You can keep my share of the profits, yo, I'm just heading off to bed." He turned to leave, but Pietro was in front of him before he could stagger out the door.

"Oh no you don't do you know what this kid just DID to me?" he whined, holding up the baby as Exhibit A. "You can't go this was your idea too…"

Todd sighed, and Pietro smirked. Victory!

"Fine, what do I have to do?" he asked.

Pietro considered the question. For a full 10 seconds. It felt like an eternity.

"Ok, this is what we've gotta do," he said…

* * *

"Man, I can't believe we pulled this off!" Todd said after the last kid went out the door with the last parent.

"Of course we did," Pietro replied with a smirk as he lounged back in the chair, his legs draped over the arm as he counted the money. "When in doubt, stick the brats in front of the tv with food. Stands to reason, it keeps Fred busy 24/7, why not kids? Same maturity level." Definitely one of his best plans yet, he decided with a grin. With this much money, they could…

"Mine!" Tabby said as she walked past, snagging a handful of bills out of his hand. He stared after her incredulously. Man, he must really be wiped, or Tabby was even faster than he'd ever thought.

"Hey, I went and got the TV and VCR…" he protested feebly, holding tight to the remainder. Whatever. Much as he hated to see that much money walk off, he'd promised. Plenty to go around, right?

"Oh yeah, and who watched the kids when you were gone?" she grinned, dancing around the living room to imagined music. "Y'know, Pietro, you've had worse ideas. This wasn't that bad. We should totally do it again next weekend."

"Speak for yourself, yo!" Todd complained, re-entering the room holding an ice-pack to the back of his head. "You two are on your own next time."

Pietro ignored him, turning to Tabby with a smirk. At least someone appreciated his greatness. "No shit. Forget it frog-boy, you and I can split the profits. Hey," he asked suddenly as a thought occurred to him. "What was with all those phone calls earlier?"

Tabby shrugged. "Dunno. Fred picked up,"she said, dancing her way over to the table where a pile of papers indicated that Fred had actually taken messages. "Uh oh," she said with a smirk, walking over and presenting them with a flourish, then raising her hand and letting them rain down over his head. "Looks like you're in trouble," she said, and Pietro flipped through the stack, his reading slowed only by Fred's illiteracy.

"Oh maaan…this might not be quite so easy to pull off again next weekend," he complained. Not impossible. Some of the girls he'd stood up would forgive him. He WAS Pietro, after all.

Ewww, maybe not that one, though. Death threats were a pretty good sign of non-forgiveness.

The doorbell rang, and he set down the messages, pocketing the money on his way to answer it. Man, he was actually TIRED. Weird feeling. He opened the door, and saw a pair of police officers standing outside.

"Yeah, what do you want?" Pietro demanded, hands on hips.

"We've had complaints about someone running an unlicensed child care center," the officer said.

"Not us!" Pietro replied cheerfully. No way they could pin that on them. None whatsoever…the officer held up a handwritten advertisement, and he paled. Except that.

"As I'm sure you're aware, there's a 300 fine for the first offense," the officer stated calmly, handing him a ticket and a pamphlet. "This will explain the licensing process and the procedure for appeal. Have a nice evening," he added, obviously in a hurry to get away from the house as quickly as possible. Pietro closed the door behind him, and came back into the living room.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit…hold it. It wasn't like they were actually going to _pay_ that, anyway. So, no problem. Thus cheered, Pietro came back into the living room, counting the remaining money in his hand.

"How much did we get, yo?"

"Eighty bucks!" Pietro said, displaying the bills proudly. That'd show Wanda - not like it was a ton of money, he could get more than that robbing the 7-11, but - it was the principle of the thing.

The floor rumbled ominously beneath his feet, and he turned back toward the door just as it crashed open, revealing a seriously annoyed looking Lance.

"Oooh, what's the matter, kitty-cat not want to be petted tonight?" Pietro smirked, backing up only slightly as he realized the pit-bull look was being directed at _him_.

"Mind explaining why the lawn's now sprouted a giant hole and a fountain?" Lance asked, and Pietro dashed off to look out the kitchen window.

Huh. It really was. That was kind of cool, he decided as he flashed back again, faster than anyone would have had time to realize he was gone. Gave the yard some class, after all.

"Not really," he replied calmly, a trace of a smirk on his face. Something must've happened when Boom Boom blew the hole in the yard. But that didn't have anything to do with him.

"Pietro!" he heard from upstairs, and flipped around again, this time to see his sister heading down the stairs. With her eyes flashing. Ok, not a good thing… "There's no water. What the hell did you do this time?"

"I didn't do anything it was all her!" he replied quickly, pointing at Tabby.

"Wonderful," Lance moaned. "I can't fix the damn water pipes, you morons," he added, and Pietro backed up as he saw that his Neanderthal of a housemate was eyeing the bills in his hand. "You're paying for this one," he added, stepping forward. A fraction of a second later, Pietro was running toward the stairs.

Where he was met by a blast of hex energy, courtesy of his pissed off sister. And found himself frozen in place.

Damn it, he hated when she did that.

"Waaanda, let me go!" he whined. She was his sister, after all. She wouldn't leave him high and dry for Lance to…

…pluck the money right out of his hand. Damn.

"This should pretty much cover it," Lance said, plucking the money out of Pietro's fist and pocketing it.

"Yo man, that's our money!" Todd protested, and Pietro would've cast him a grateful look if not for the fact that he couldn't seem to move.

Had he mentioned just how much he, really, really hated this?

"Not anymore," Lance snapped back. "Gonna have to call a plumber in the morning. Better have more where that came from," he observed. "What kind of scheme were you idiots up to this time?"

"Yes Pietro," Wanda added, her eyes narrowed as she dropped the hex holding him still. "Why don't you tell Lance about the houseful of kids?"

Pietro took one look at his sister, and another at Lance, whose expression had somehow managed to grow even darker. And then at Todd and Tabby, who were quietly sneaking out of the house.

Traitors. See if he cut them in next time. Assuming he lived that long.

Forcing a grin in place, he beamed at Wanda and Lance.

"Well, you see, it all started because Wanda told me to get a job…"


End file.
